May 1969
Professor Tom Daniels was motorboating Debbie's clit. They were on the old cracked leather sofa in his office, the Saturday afternoon sun pouring in through the windows, dust swirling lazily in its rays. The leather was creaking, squeaking as Debbie squirmed and thrust her hips. She was giggling hysterically when she wasn't groaning, her fingers clawing at Tom's thick gray hair. He slid his hands under her sweet little ass and lifted her hips off the sofa to better bury his face in her snatch.
She tasted sweet, her juices saturating his face, filling his nose so he'd smell her long after she left. She was building up to her third orgasm, her breath coming in labored gulps in between high pitched giggles.
She let out a scream as she climaxed, her back arching, her hips grinding against his face. He felt her body shudder in his hands and smiled. He couldn't wait to get his rock hard cock inside her for the second time that afternoon.
He let go of her ass and crawled up her body, growling like a ravenous predator. She opened her eyes and looked down at him giggling wildly. She always got giggly when she was sexually aroused. It was like her clitoris was a ticklish spot.
He paused to suck on one of her tiny breasts. She had breasts the size of fried egg yolks but she had huge nipples that were like the tips of pointy ice cream cones and just as sweet. While he sucked roughly on one, his hand massaged the other until both nipples were hard and she was squealing.
He moved up her body to kiss her neck. She wore some musky perfume that was sweet and pungent, almost stinky, something popular with the new hippie crowd. It reminded him of an aroused woman's natural musky scent and it turned him on. He growled against her pulse point, sending her into another fit of giggles. She wrapped her long legs around his hips and pulled his cock towards her pussy. He gently nipped her earlobe and was rewarded with a groan.
She cried, "Dammit, Professor, stop teasing me and fuck me!"
She released her hold on him, propping her right leg up on the back of the sofa while her left angled off the edge of the sofa so her foot was on the floor, her pink pussy was open and ready for him. He reached down between them and guided his cock into her tight slit. It was wet and silky, his cock sliding in like a hand into a greased glove.
He did as she wanted, fucked her hard, grunting all the while. After a few minutes of pumping his rod into her, he knelt between her legs and grabbed her little round ass again, lifting her hips off the sofa so he could drill into her and get deeper penetration.
He forgot about her pleasure at that point and concentrated on his own. He closed his eyes as his pelvis slapped loudly against her, his cock pounding into her up to his balls, their bodies rubbing against the leather sofa, the squeaking the only sound other than their grunts and groans in the empty suite of offices.
He opened his eyes briefly to watch her reaction and she had her blue eyes closed, her mouth slightly opened, her hands played with her breasts, pulling and pinching the nipples until they were hard bright red points like delicious little strawberries.
Debbie wasn't beautiful yet she wasn't unattractive. She had beautiful long blonde hair, a willowy long body, but she was cursed with a horsey face. She made up for her lack of beauty by being a horny nymphomaniac who couldn't get enough cock. He enjoyed her flirty smiles during his lectures, her subtle attempts to distract him.
Debbie enjoyed his body, showing her appreciation with her tongue, lips, pussy, and ass. By the end of the afternoon, she'd want him to fill every one of her orifices with his cum - her mouth, her pussy, and her ass. Plus she liked getting slapped around, having her small tits smacked until they were bright red or being bent over his knees while he spanked her like the naughty schoolgirl she was.
His orgasm nearly reached its peak and he was breathless as he growled, "You love this dick, don't you, baby? Yeah, you like the professor fucking your pussy raw. I plan to tear up your ass next then stick my cock in your mouth so you can suck me off." He slapped her tits and she squealed with delight. He felt her pussy tighten around his cock until it felt like he was fucking a virgin. He continued slapping her tiny tits until they were bright red.
She screamed, "Oh fuck," as she climaxed again and again. Her body bucked wildly beneath him, her eyes rolling back in her head as her fingers clawed at his arms.
He hastened his rhythm, banging into her so roughly her entire body jiggled and jerked with each thrust. Her hands stopped clawing at his arms and she pressed them above her head against the arm of the sofa to stop her head from banging into it.
He smacked her titties again and she gasped while her pussy tightened around his cock. He felt his orgasm peak and he pulled out of her, quickly jacking off on her belly with some of his cum spurting out onto her tiny tits.
All the while they never heard the outer door open to the office suite or hear Joy open his office door. While he grunted as his cock covered Debbie's torso with his cum, his favorite student Joy Thomas stood in the doorway watching them with horror and disgust.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Joy abruptly turned around and ran out of Tom's office. She couldn't breathe and her heart was pounding so hard she was sure it'd explode. She ran down the hall, down the nearest stairwell and burst out the door onto Washington Place. A few students lounging around in front of the building looked at her curiously. She knew she had to look as if she saw a ghost.
She took a deep breath and exhaled. The humid air was heavy like sucking in a cloud of dust. She hurried down the street, jogging the eight blocks to her apartment on Thompson, breathing heavily with the burden of the extra weight of her books, sweat dripping down her face and back.
Her backpack filled with text books bounced uncomfortably on her back as the heels of her shoes clomped against the sidewalk like horse's hooves. She finally slowed down, taking deep breaths, hoping she didn't look as pathetic as she felt.
How could she be so stupid? She should have seen the signs...the "massaging" vibrator in his bottom desk drawer, the KY jelly, the way he looked at other girls...it was obvious he wasn't interested in a monogamous relationship.
Oh sure, he bought her expensive gifts and took her out to eat at fancy restaurants and Broadway shows. He took her sailing on his sailboat along the east coast, sometimes spending the night on his boat. They shared a love of jazz and he enjoyed taking her to jazz clubs to see top performers. Now she'd miss it all.
Inside her apartment building she paused in the vestibule, leaning against the wall feeling hot and nauseous.
She reminded herself of her mother. The same naiveté, thinking if you slept with men they'd fall in love with you and be faithful. It was how her mother got pregnant with her and it was also why she never knew her father. Her mother had a penchant for wealthy men, always flirting with rich men on the jets where she worked as a stewardess. After thirty years her sexual prowess finally paid off, she was married to a supermarket magnate twenty years her senior and living in Palm Beach, Florida.
Joy thought at least she always insisted on a condom. She never got around to getting on the pill like so many girls in school. The contraceptive opened up a whole new world for young women, putting them in control of their sexuality or at least that's what they believed. As she leaned unsteadily against the back wall of the elevator, she knew it was all a ruse. Now men could fuck and forget women more easily. There was little romance, less wooing, to attract and seduce women, no loyalty. All men had to do was touch a woman in the right place, whisper he loved her, and she'd happily open her legs for him. Now there was no threat of pregnancy to frighten men into taking women and relationships more seriously.
The elevator doors opened and Joy was relieved to see an empty hallway. She wasn't in the mood to encounter neighbors. As she neared the door to her apartment, she heard Marvin Gaye singing "I Heard It Through The Grapevine" on the radio. Accompanying the R&B hit was a thumping noise and her roommate Emily singing along with the song's chorus at the top of her lungs.
Joy noisily unlocked the apartment door hoping to alert Em to avoid any embarrassment and entered the apartment. The door opened into the small galley kitchen, straight ahead in the dining area was a small table with four mismatched wooden chairs around it. The chairs were all painted turquoise blue, the table fire engine red. A cheap red and turquoise blue flowered shawl was draped over the table as a makeshift tablecloth. Text books were strewn across the table's surface and on one of the chairs. A portable typewriter was on top of the table and one of the chairs was pushed back from the table. Colorful prints of famous paintings, a few original pieces Joy and Em painted in art class in high school, and brightly colored plates hung on the walls. The wild colors gave the kitchen a festive feel that did not match Joy's mood.
Joy took off her backpack and let it slip to the floor in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room. Em was in the living room dancing as she sang into the head of a Japanese geisha doll like it was a microphone. She jumped and looked embarrassed when she saw Joy standing in the doorway. She put her hand to her breast and said, "Jesus, Joy, you scared the shit out of me! I didn't even hear you come in."
Joy smiled as she suppressed a laugh. A herd of elephants could have thundered through the kitchen and Em wouldn't have heard them. Joy said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you."
Em laughed awkwardly, waving the doll in her hand. "No big thing. I just got caught up in the song. Since the prigs next door are gone, I thought I'd enjoy myself."
The apartment next door was vacant, the three prissy college girls who used to live there gone. They were all good Christian farm girls who thought rock ‘n' roll and rhythm and blues were Satan's siren songs. They moved out a few days ago. The three viewed Joy and her two heathen roommates as succubi whose sole purpose was to seduce unsuspecting men. They complained to the landlord every chance they got about any noises Joy and her roommates made. After they moved out Joy and her roommates celebrated with pizza and a bottle of wine.
Joy picked up her backpack and said, "Is there any orange juice in the fridge?"
Em turned down the radio as the news came on and returned to her seat at the kitchen table where she'd been doing homework. She said, "No idea. I haven't had any lately."
Joy looked in the fridge. She picked up the bottle of orange juice, saw it was about three-fourths full and put it and the cheap bottle of vodka from the freezer on the kitchen counter. She grabbed a Flintstones jelly glass out of the cabinet and filled it with ice. Clutching it all in her arms along with her backpack she went into her bedroom.
Joy had the smallest bedroom to herself while her roommates Emily and Samantha shared the larger, sunnier bedroom. Joy's room was tiny, crowded with a twin-size bed, a dresser, and small desk. There was just enough room for a single person to turn around in the remaining space.
Em called after her, "Have a bad day?" She came to stand in Joy's doorway, her hand on her hip, waiting.
Her hands shaking, Joy poured herself a half glass full of vodka and topped it off with the orange juice. She took a long gulp before telling Em about finding Professor Daniels with another student in his office.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After Joy ran off, Tom kicked Debbie out of his office. She meant nothing to him, just a minor distraction, a temporary plaything. He never invited her to his home or took her out, their few sexual encounters restricted to his office.
He had heard Joy's gasp at his office door and rushed to catch up with her in the hall after pulling on his pants. After losing her on the stairs, he went back to his office, worried, and told Debbie to get dressed and get out. She hastily dressed and left with her lower lip stuck out in disappointment.
He pulled a bottle of bourbon out of the bottom drawer of his desk and poured himself a glassful. He downed it in two gulps; the amber liquid like liquid fire left a trail of heat from the back of his mouth to his belly. He held his head in his hands, his elbows propped on top of his desk.
Debbie was just one in a string of nubile students he seduced each school year. It was one of the perks of his job. He liked to seduce them, train them to do his bidding with the girls eager to please him, and then he soon tired of them when they became too demanding. He had a knack for breaking up with them by convincing them it was in their best interest. They never made any trouble for him as they moved on to boys their own age. He enjoyed choosing his prey and the subsequent hunt. Finding a virgin was an added bonus. As a divorced father of two kids the same age as his college students, Tom was definitely not interested in a long term relationship. His ex-wife cured him of that romantic notion.
Then along came Joy Thomas. She was a student in his philosophy class the previous semester. Smart, funny, and beautiful, she naturally caught his eye. Now he probably lost her and his heart ached.
He picked up his office phone and called her home number. After three rings her roommate answered and he hung up, too embarrassed to leave a message.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Em left Joy alone to brood. Joy was sitting cross-legged on her bed, her back propped up against a mountain of pillows and her toy life-size German Shepherd named Quiet held in one hand and her refilled glass of vodka and orange juice in the other. Her brain a little fuzzy from the vodka, she debated whether to forgive Tom or not.
On one hand, he was a cheating son of a bitch, poking his cock in any pussy that would have him. She apparently wasn't the only college girl he bamboozled with his charm, talented tongue, and hard dick. Knowing he fucked others made her feel used, worthless, and a little dumb. Not a happy scene.
On the other hand, he showered her with expensive gifts and introduced her to a world of wealth she never knew existed. There was something comforting about a man who spent money on you and took care of you, eager to indulge your every whim. Of course there was a price to pay, namely sex, but she enjoyed it too so it wasn't all one sided.
Then there were the days and nights on his sailboat...the gentle rocking of the anchored boat, the feel of the sea wind in her hair, the sun warming her skin...it was refreshing and exhilarating. Or the trip to Mexico over Christmas break where he treated her to lazy days on the beach and bought her so many gifts she had to buy another suitcase to bring them all home.
Could she tolerate the cheating? She didn't want a long term relationship right now. She wanted to finish college and start a career before considering a commitment. Of course Tom wasn't interested in any long term relationship but looking the other way while he fucked other college students made her feel cheap and used. Could her ego handle the blow?
Tired of wallowing in self-pity, she yelled to Em that she was taking a bath and went into the bathroom to run her bathwater. She poured some perfumed bath oil into the tub and the bathroom was soon filled with its soft, powdery scent.
She slipped into the warm water and rested her head against the lip of the claw foot tub and rehearsed in her head what she'd say to Tom. She was so deep in thought she was startled when Em knocked on the bathroom door to tell her Professor Daniels called and wanted her to call him back.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The papers he was grading were boring, many of them badly written, making him question why the college accepted half the students they did. He often wondered how they graduated from high school. Their grammar and knowledge of the English language was atrocious. He was so focused on deciphering their writing that when his desk phone rang it made him jump. He grabbed it and was relieved to hear Joy's voice.
"You called?"
He hesitated for a moment. Her voice was chilly and unfriendly. Not a good sign.
He said, "We need to talk. Hungry for a steak?" He knew steaks were her favorite.
She sighed as she said, "Yes."
Her voice was still cold but he was happy she agreed to see him. There was hope after all.
He said, "I'll pick you up at our usual spot at 6:00. I think we should take some time to talk before we get something to eat."
Their usual spot was a bus stop about a block from her apartment. He didn't like anyone at the university knowing he was seeing her. Not only because some of his other young lovers might get upset but because fellow professors and administrative staff frowned upon professors dipping into the student pool with their dicks. He knew Joy hated sneaking around but she understood why he did it.
He smiled when she said, "See you then."
She hung up before he could reply or say good bye.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He ended up taking her to Jake's Steak House, one of her favorite restaurants. It was dark - darkly paneled and dimly lit with high backed booths. It was the type of place where VIPs went to NOT be seen. It was one of her and Tom's ideal hangouts since he worried that someone from the university would see them together and he'd get in trouble.
She dined on their largest filet mignon, a loaded baked potato, and light side salad. She hadn't eaten anything since the bowl of cereal she had at breakfast and she was starving. At least she was going to get an expensive meal our of Tom's infidelity.
Afterwards they went to a quiet jazz club in the theater district. It was dark, intimate and a little on the seedy side...not a big draw for his university colleagues.
She noticed a guy sitting at the bar watching her throughout the jazz trio's performance. He even raised his glass as if toasting her when she caught him staring. The bartender and waitresses fawned all over him so he was apparently an important regular. Of course Tom was oblivious to his presence.
The trio took a break and Tom took the opportunity to go to the bathroom. She was left alone at the table nursing a cosmopolitan. She groaned when she saw her admirer weave his way around tables to join her.
Smiling slyly he asked, "Do you mind if I join you?" He had a deep, melodious Southern accent. Sexy.
She waved at the empty chair and said, "Go ahead."
He sat down and set his glass of bourbon on the table. Offering his right hand he said, "Tanner Davis and you are?"
Unsure how to respond, she took his hand and said, "Joy Thomas."
He waved towards the chair where Tom had been sitting and said, "Is that your husband?"
She actually laughed. It bubbled out of her before she could give it a second thought.
"No. He's a friend."
His chin propped up on his fist, he gazed longingly at her and said, "Nice."
She polished off her cosmo as she watched him over the rim of the glass. He was sexy, not handsome, with a nose that was slightly too big, eyes a bit too small, and thin lips. But he was manly looking with intense blue eyes, his features ruggedly handsome in an imperfect way. That, his athletic physique, well cut suit, and sexy Southern drawl completed the attractive package. She felt that old familiar tingling in her nether regions and wondered if it would get her in trouble.
With a lazy smile he asked, "You really don't know who I am, do you?"
Before she could respond, he snapped his fingers at their waitress and asked for refills on their drinks. He told her to add it to his tab.
When their waitress walked away she said, "Should I?"
"Now I took you for a smart lady, a scholarly type, of all people I thought you would have read one of my novels."
She wasn't sure if his comment combined with the mischievous grin was meant to insult her. Before she could make a bigger fool of herself their waitress returned with their drinks.
Tanner held his glass up and said, "To us. To our future."
Chuckling she gave him an questioning look and raised her glass to his.
As she sipped on her cocktail it finally hit her who Tanner Davis was. His books were popular among her fellow female students. They were lewd tales of wealthy Southern living filled with explicitly described sex, taboo relationships, and corruption. One of his novels was her first introduction to what lesbians did in bed together. Her face reddened at the thought and she was grateful for the bar's dim lighting.
She put her glass down and said, "Of course I know who you are. I've read some of your books. They are quite popular with the ladies."
He leaned on the table, his chin propped up by his hand again, an insipid grin on his face as if he was besotted with her. He said, "Are they quite popular with you though? That's the important question."
She gave him a sly flirtatious smile as she said, "Of course. Who doesn't like to peek at the private lives of salacious creatures?"
He leaned closer to her and said, "You know what? I like you. Why don't you ditch your stodgy professor and run away with me. I know another jazz club with better music."
She took another sip of her drink to give her time to think. She wondered how he guessed Tom was a professor. He didn't necessarily look the part. He wasn't wearing tweed with leather patches on the elbows and smoking a pipe, a cravat tucked into the neckline of his shirt and his hair in disarray to his shoulders. He was older, in his forties, with shortly cropped dark hair just silvering at the temples and dressed in a conservative dark gray suit.
She was saved from responding by Tom's presence as he returned to the table. She expected him to make a scene, challenging her newfound admirer for her affection, but he smiled broadly and held out his hand instead as he gushed, "Tanner Davis! It is a pleasure meeting you!"
Tanner looked mildly amused as he took Tom's hand.
While Tom fawned over Tanner, the famous author put his hand on Joy's knee and slowly slid it up her thigh. It was like he hit her with a jolt of electricity and she knew her pussy was wet. In response she gulped down her cosmo and, smiling knowingly, Tanner ordered another round of drinks.
His fingers dangerously close to the top of her inner thighs, he said to Tom, "I'm having a dinner party in a few weeks. I would love for you and your lovely lady to come. Give me your address and I'll send you an invite with all the particulars."
Giddy with excitement, Tom took out a pad of paper from an inner jacket pocket along with a pen and jotted down his home address.
While he was busy doing that, Tanner looked at Joy and said, "Please promise me that you'll come."
She gasped, her nipples instantly hard, as his hands stroked her moist crotch. Breathless she said, "Of course I'll be there." He gave her pussy a little tickle before removing his hand, a sly smile on his face, as he used that hand to take the paper Tom gave him. He put the paper away in a jacket pocket and as he listened to Tom go on about one of his books, Joy noticed him sniff the fingers that stroked her pussy.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Joy never brought up Tom's infidelity and he was relieved. He was looking forward to the dinner party at Tanner Davis's, brimming with excitement but unable to tell anyone he was going. He didn't want anyone questioning him about his date.
Joy, always naïve of the ways of the wealthy, asked him how she should dress. He suggested a few dresses that he bought her in the past, leaning towards a lovely gold lace and satin number. He was a little surprised when he pulled up at the bus stop and saw her in a demure red dress she picked out for a trip to the theater. If he remembered correctly it was a Givenchy. Sleeveless, it had a sexy scoop neckline that revealed her generous cleavage but it flowed over her curves, only hinting at the voluptuousness beneath, the hem ending at her knee. Six inches at the hemline was embellished with red tulle petals, making it look like a band of roses. She looked lovely with her long hair pulled back into a sophisticated jumble of curls and paired it with a pearl necklace and earring set he bought for her.
Her demeanor was cool but he was hopeful since she agreed to attend the dinner party with him. Her beauty, shy charm, and intelligence would reflect well on him.
Rather than contend with the traffic on Broadway, he took 3rd Avenue north to East 61st Street and took that west to The Pierre Hotel on 5th Avenue. They were able to get valet parking and exited his Corvette at the door on 61st Street.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The lobby was quiet except for the hum of people talking behind the front desk. Joy's heels clicked noisily on the black and white tile floor. As she looked around at the opulent gold and ivory surroundings, she felt her throat tighten. She felt like an impostor in the plush lobby, like a chicken trying to pose as a peacock.
On the way to the elevators she got a glimpse of the Pierre's Rotunda Room with its breathtaking murals. She took a deep breath and kept telling herself it was only one night and she could get through it.
They were alone in the elevator as it rose to the top floor of the hotel.
Tom said, "Nervous?"
She gulped before answering, "Is it that obvious?"
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and said, "Yes. Remember, the people here are no different than you or me. Some come from generations of money and find people like us interesting, refreshing. Others came from nothing and scratched their way to the top. They haven't completely forgotten where they came from. Sometimes it is evident in their manners and behavior. You'll do just fine. Just be your usual charming and gorgeous self and they will soon be smitten with you."
Joy was amused by Tom's use of the word "us". He was one of the people who came from generations of money. He didn't know anything about scratching his way to the top. He was one of them.
She took a deep breath when the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Tom walked briskly to Tanner's door, his manner brimming with confidence, an ingrained attitude that this was where he belonged, and rang the bell. A few moments later, Tanner himself opened the door with a big smile on his face and a glass of bourbon in his hand.
"Come in, come in." He gestured for them to enter. "The rest of the guests are in the living room to your right." He pointed with his glass towards a set of double doors at the end of the hall.
Joy was impressed by the entry hall. It was a long narrow room painted dark blue with a black and white checkered marble tile floor. What was so stunning about it were the beautiful paintings on the walls. The dark blue walls were filled with paintings ranging in size from a large colorful abstract the size of a door to a postcard size nude. The beautiful gilt frames probably cost thousands of dollars themselves. Gold velvet settees and chairs flanked the entry.
Tom possessively held onto Joy's arm. For once she didn't mind. The gesture afforded her a bit of comfort as they entered the living room to confront the rest of the guests.
The living room was just as stunning. More beautiful paintings adorned the dusky purple walls. Wall space was minimal because the room's windows were the stars of the room providing views of Central Park to the west and the north end of Manhattan. An Art Deco style marble fireplace stood between two of the massive windows.
The furniture was as colorful as the paintings. There were ruby red velvet sofas and brightly colored striped chairs. Pillows in a variety of jewel tones were casually throw about and a black baby grand piano was nestled in a corner of the room. A massive Oriental rug graced the parquet wood floor.
A gorgeous blonde was seated on one of the ruby red sofas while a man in a black suit that was just shy of being a tuxedo stood at her knee. They were talking to a couple in their thirties. The man looked disheveled, his suit slightly wrinkled, while his homely wife was dressed in the latest haute couture. A man and woman in their late thirties or early forties were talking to Harvard Stout, who Joy recognized as the President of the New-York Historical Society, and his wife.
As if she didn't feel conspicuous enough, Tanner asked for everyone's attention and as eyes all turned towards her and Tom, he said, "Everyone, this is Dr. Tom Daniels, a professor of philosophy at NYU and the lovely Joy Thomas." He made a sweeping gesture towards her and Tom. Then he went about introducing them individually to the guests.
The beautiful blonde was a famous Broadway actress. The man at her knee was her producer husband. They were both major players in New York's theater scene. The couple they were talking to turned out to be a famous playwright and his obscenely wealthy wife. The couple in their thirties was Tanner's agent and his wife and then there was the older Harvard Stout from the Historical Society and his stately but lovely wife.
Joy and Tom were talking to the Stouts with Tanner and his agent listening in when the doorbell rang and Tanner went to answer it. He returned to the living room followed by a man close to Tanner's age accompanied by a striking tall black woman who produced gasps from the rest of the guests.
Joy smiled. She suddenly felt completely at ease.
The outlandish black woman was introduced as Marissa French and the man with her was famous fashion photographer Peter Caruso. Marissa had a sexy French accent and in her three inch heels was slightly taller than Joy's five eleven frame. Beside her chocolaty skin, fluffy afro, and striking features, what shocked the other guests most was her scandalous outfit. Joy recognized the André Courrèges original.
The revealing outfit consisted of black sequined pants, the sides cut out in squares from her ankle to her hips, revealing bare chocolaty skin beneath. The top was short, barely enough to cover her modest breasts, the upper portion had gaping slits across her breasts. Modest short cap sleeves looked like shoulder pads. The outrageous top stopped short of showing her nipples with flesh colored cups covering her breasts. Her jewelry consisted of diamond and platinum large hoop earrings and a cuff bracelet that looked like a silver hand gripping her upper arm.
Peter Caruso was large, stocky, with a weathered face that bespoke time spent outdoors. He was smoking a cigar and when he spoke his voice boomed, his voice deep and husky, sexy. Handsome with dark hair touched with silver, he was dressed casually in a gray suit and white shirt with no tie.
When he was introduced to Joy, he bowed over her hand and kissed the back of it as if she were royalty. She ventured a look at his girlfriend who gave her a sly smile. They reminded Joy of two lions, casually lingering about, waiting for the right opportunity to pounce on their unsuspecting prey. The black beauty didn't seem the least put off by Peter's interest in her. It was unsettling.
The guests mingled and made obligatory niceties while they sipped on their drinks. The apartment was soon filled with the mouthwatering aroma of prime rib as restaurant staff started bringing in the food. The alcohol loosened the guests' tongues so there was a constant hum of conversation.
Dinner was announced and the guests made their way to the dining room. Place settings at the table indicated where they should sit and Joy noticed she was seated next to Tanner and across from Harvard Stout.
The dining room was as striking as the rest of the house with dark orange walls and white china cabinets on each side of the modern oak table. The table was surrounded by contrasting modern Verner Panton S-shaped, molded plastic chairs in white. White drapes framed the two windows with a breathtaking view of Central Park. Orange-red and white Art Deco china was displayed in the cabinets and set on the table. Art Deco sculptures depicting women in varying forms of movement were on pedestals in each corner. When she commented on them, Tanner told her the china and sculptures were once a part of his paternal grandmother's prized collection of Art Deco art.
During the first course, Tanner mentioned to Harvard Stout that Joy was a history major and would be an excellent candidate for an internship at the museum. Mr. Stout seemed enthused by the idea. He gave Joy the name of the person to talk to about the internship and said she should mention his name.
When Mr. Stout turned his attention to another conversation down the table, Tanner winked and smiled at her.
By the time the main course arrived, Tom was talking philosophy and everyone expressed an opinion. The conversation, though not heated, found a few people in disagreement. Tom and Tanner's literary agent spoke at length about pragmatism. The rest of the guests around them soon lost in the philosophical psychobabble. The slightly drunken playwright at the end of the table was too busy peering down the actress's cleavage to know what anyone was saying.
Someone made the mistake of asking Peter Caruso about his latest project. He halted all conversations and the playwright's peeping by saying, "I am going to do a showing of erotic photographs. All tastefully done of course but the models will be nude. Marissa has generously offered to pose for some of them along with a couple of famous models and actresses."
Harvey Stout nearly choked to death. His stately wife Marie dropped her fork. The Broadway actress started laughingly and her producer husband nearly sprayed wine out of his nose. The playwright turned his attention to Marissa's breasts and got an elbow in the ribs from his wife.
The conversation soon revolved around art both visual and printed. Joy ate her prime rib and absorbed the conversation whirling around her. She smiled thinking at least she got a great meal and an internship out of the night's harrowing experience.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As the party wound down, the group moved to the living room for after dinner drinks. Jazz music played softly in the background. After Tom had to go to the bathroom, Tanner sidled up to Joy and asked her how she enjoyed the party. They were alone in a corner, a heated discussion going on about politics at the other end of the room.
She said, "The food was lovely and thank you for introducing me to Mr. Stout. Hopefully it will result in an internship at the museum."
"You are quite welcome, ma chère." He then pointed his high ball glass at his friend Peter and said, "Peter told me he'd love to photograph you one day."
During dinner Joy learned Tanner was from New Orleans. Despite living in New York for more than five years, he never lost his deep melodious accent peppered with French. Joy found it sexy.
Joy looked in the direction of Tanner's odd artist friend and his exotic companion and said, "Was he thinking of me for his erotic photographs?"
Tanner laughed and said, "I wouldn't be surprised." He paused for a few moments and then said, "I want to see you again. Soon. Any ideas?"
"Know any good jazz clubs?"
He chuckled, the ice in his glass tinkling. "I know many. Friday or Saturday night?"
Joy sighed. "I have to work both nights. I have off on Sundays and Mondays."
"Sunday then. I know a place that has live musicians on Sunday nights. Even better because it will be less crowded."
She watched for Tom's reappearance as she said, "Tell me where and when."
"Do you know the Red Fedora in the Village on West 4th Street near Charles Street?"
"Yes."
"Should I pick you up or meet you there?"
She thought about it but when she saw Tom return to the room she said, "I'll meet you there."
Tom was sidelined by the busty actress. He was all smiles while he listened to her, trying desperately not to leer at her tits but not quite succeeding.
Tanner said, "I'll meet you there at 8:00 p.m. on Sunday night."
She held her glass up as if to toast him and said, "It's a date."
|
Note from the webmaster: authors always appreciate feedback about their stories, so by all means write the author a note if you liked the story! The author of this story: Fluffy_Kat |